Reflection Point - By Emily March Page 0,100

still. “Oh?”

“She blurted out her history. Said she’d do anything to make sure that TJ didn’t end up railroaded into jail. I calmed her down, but the woman certainly has issues with the law. You have your work cut out with her, Zach.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“If you still want her, that is.”

“Would she run, do you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If she has something to stick around for, maybe not.”

Zach brooded about it as he typed up his report. Running off. He sulked about it as he finally climbed into his truck to head home for the night. Leaving. As he turned down Fourth Street and drove past her house, he decided he was pissed about it. Especially after he glanced into the driveway and spied the open garage door. The Taurus’s trunk stood open. “Son of a bitch!”

He steered the truck over the curb, shoved the gearshift into park, and viciously switched off the ignition. He slammed the door behind him as he marched up her drive and took up a position leaning against the Taurus. Two filled-with-fuming minutes later, Savannah exited her back door, carrying a suitcase. Seeing Zach, she abruptly stopped. The suitcase slipped from her hand and thudded to the ground.

“Going somewhere?” he drawled.

After a moment her chin came up. “We weren’t given instructions that we had to stay in town.”

“No, you weren’t.” He arched away from the car and took two menacing steps toward her. “You certainly weren’t under arrest. It’s a free country. You can leave Eternity Springs anytime you damn well please. Nothing is keeping you here, is it? You can make soap anywhere, sell it over the Internet from anywhere. You’re free as a freakin’ bird. No reason at all you shouldn’t fly off to somewhere new in the middle of the night.”

She closed her eyes. “Zach, I—”

“You what, Savannah? Are a coward? A faithless friend? But that’s not all of it, is it? It’s not the bottom line, the marrow of who you are. You, Savannah Moore, are a victim, aren’t you?”

He heard her quickly indrawn breath and knew he’d scored a hit.

“It’s understandable. You got a raw deal, it’s true, so you learned how to be a victim. Now you’re an expert at it, a pro. Well, good for you. Everybody should be an expert at something. You enjoy yourself.”

He walked back up the driveway half a dozen steps, then stopped and snapped his fingers. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I have something to tell you that goes against your narrative. But as the head law enforcement officer in this town, I’d be remiss if I failed to tell you that your nephew is not a suspect in the theft of the stop sign or vulnerable to a homicide charge. The other bit of news I have isn’t actually duty, but something I was doing in my spare time, so I think I can keep the details to myself. I don’t think it’s necessary to tell you about the progress I’ve made toward proving Kyle Vaughn and his mother ran those drugs, not you. So long, Savannah. Have a nice victimhood.”

If she said anything in response, he didn’t hear it over the hard crunch of his boots against her gravel drive or the screech of his tires as he pulled away from Heavenscents.

TWENTY-THREE

Have a nice victimhood.

After Zach sped off in a spray of gravel and tailpipe exhaust, Savannah sank down on her back stoop and tried to process the words he’d fired at her like bullets. Twice she glanced down at her chest to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. It felt like she’d taken a direct hit to her heart.

She didn’t know how long she’d sat out there alone when the back door opened and TJ came outside. “Aunt Savannah? Uh … do you want me to put Inny’s bed in the car?”

Long seconds ticked by before she said, “I think … I think we can wait until the morning to leave, don’t you? I’m tired. So, so tired.”

“I think that’s a good idea. I have to admit, the idea of driving over Sinner’s Prayer Pass in the dark didn’t make me happy.” He hesitated a moment, then asked, “Are you okay, Aunt Savannah?”

“I’m fine.”

“I heard what Sheriff Turner said. Want to talk about … things? He was right about some of it, but some of what he said was just damned wrong.”

“Don’t curse,” she said by rote. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not in the mood to talk

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